


No Rest for the Weary

by Cinaed



Series: The Best of Carolina The Teenage Witch [29]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sabrina the Teenage Witch Fusion, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Developing Relationship, Fights, M/M, Magic, Mistakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 13:50:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21339277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: Carolina and Simmons are burning the candle at both ends.
Relationships: Agent Carolina & AI Program Epsilon | Leonard Church, Dexter Grif & Dick Simmons
Series: The Best of Carolina The Teenage Witch [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1183436
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	No Rest for the Weary

**Author's Note:**

> Almost halfway through season three! Next up, the mid-season finale.... :D 
> 
> Thanks again to Aryashi for looking this over for me.

Church only notices Carolina’s absence when the homeroom bell rings.

Slouching in his seat, Church scans the room. She’s not over in the corner talking to Wash, or even coming in with the last-minute crowd. The last he saw of her was her rushing out the door that morning, mumbling something about getting in some extra track practice before school.

Donut notices too. “Is Carolina sick?”

Church shrugs.

Donut is halfway through the roll call when the door opens and Carolina sidles inside. Her cheeks are flushed, and get pinker from embarrassment as half the class turns to look at her. She hastily sits down in the closest empty seat.

When Church squints at her, he can see that she’s sweating. It’s just the start of the day, and she already looks tired. Has she seriously been running around this whole time?

“Carolina, you’re late,” Donut chides. “_Technically_ that’s detention.”

Carolina pauses in the middle of brushing her sweat-darkened ponytail off her neck. Several emotions flicker across her face. Church watches her visibly bite back a protest. “I—”

“But it’s homeroom, which isn’t that important, so I’ll give you a pass,” Donut says. He waves a warning finger in her direction. His voice is half-teasing, half-serious as he adds, “Don’t make it a habit!”

“I won’t,” Carolina mumbles, but her jaw is tight.

Donut stares at her.

“...Thank you,” she adds after a beat.

Donut smiles. “You’re welcome!”

When the bell rings for first period, Church grabs his bag and hurries to catch up with Carolina.

He can see the frustration in her set shoulders. The sweat has dried, but she still looks tired and annoyed. He hesitates, wondering if he should leave her alone, but the question slips out anyway.

“Did you lose track of time or what?”

“Or what,” Carolina mutters. “I was thinking.”

“About what?” he asks, but she just plucks at her shirt, making a face and adding, “Ugh, I need a shower.”

Church grins, sensing an opportunity to cheer her up. “Well, that’s an easy fix.” He sees the blank look on her face. He sighs and drops his voice to a whisper. “Seriously? You did the time spell for your test! Just freeze time and go take a shower.”

Instead of thanking him for his great idea, Carolina looks even more annoyed. “Seriously?” she parrots back. “Magic isn’t the solution to every problem! It--” She stops, but her lips go thin.

There’s a bite to her voice, one that makes Church blink. He almost argues that magic solves most problems if you’re smart about it, but one look at Carolina’s face convinces him that would be a bad idea. There’s irritation and a sour exhaustion in her features. Trying not to be obvious about studying her, Church feels a pang of worry. The exhaustion seems more than just one distracted run around the track would cause.

He says, “Well, maybe not, but this time it’d help, right? You don’t want to spend the entire day sweaty and gross.”

“Yeah,” Carolina says, but she doesn’t look enthusiastic. She raises her finger and makes a familiar gesture.

Church feels time freeze around them. He gives her an encouraging grin. “You’ll feel better after a shower.”

Carolina makes a non-committal noise. Then she disappears through the crowd of frozen teens, sliding awkwardly around them so that she doesn’t bump into anyone.

The last Church sees of her is her rounding the corner of the hallway in the direction of the gym, her ponytail narrowly missing hitting DuFresne in the face.

* * *

“Crap,” Simmons mutters.

He looks down at the half-graded physics test he was working on. Instead of actually grading the test, he must’ve zoned out. He’s scribbled the ingredients for tonight’s spell in the margins of the paper instead.

He sighs and reaches for the white-out.

He tries to focus on the test, but he keeps thinking about the upcoming experiment. A mixture of excitement and frustration twists his stomach. After weeks working at the leyline, he and Doctor Church have confirmed the theory about the effusivism, but they’ve also run into the problem of certain limitations.

Namely, Simmons can’t do nonverbal spells. They’ve experimented with more elementary magic like food and clothing spells, which need only a twitch of a witch’s finger and a thought to do. Simmons has tried and failed every time under Doctor Church’s sharp eyes. The spells only work when he includes a verbal component.

It’s frustrating. Simmons knows he should focus on his successes and the fact that he can do magic on a consistent basis now, but there’s a bitter taste in his mouth whenever he tries a nonverbal spell and fails.

He can’t even complain to Grif, because Grif has been getting weird about the experiments. Grif doesn’t want to hear about them at all, not even when Simmons has managed something really great like the orange tree.

Simmons swipes the white-out over the ingredients in the margins. He doesn’t realize how hard he’s pressing down until the paper tears. “Crap,” he mutters again. He erases the evidence more carefully, wishing as he does that he could figure out a spell to give himself more hours in the day.

* * *

Connie drops her tray onto the lunch table with a clatter that makes heads turn. “Turns out I was an idiot for thinking I could make a difference,” she announces with a scowl. “The school newspaper is a joke.”

“It was always a joke,” Church mutters.

Carolina blinks, distracted from her own bad mood. “There’s a newspaper?”

Connie narrows her eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Sure,” Carolina says after a second.

Wash swallows a bite of his pizza and shrugs. “Come on, Connie, I told you it was a waste of time.”

“Yeah, just rename the paper Football Times,” adds Niner. She rolls her eyes. “The football team gets an entire newspaper about them coming third in the county, but half of the other teams get to state or national championships and nothing. It’s crap.”

“I _know _it’s crap,” Connie says, looking even more annoyed. “But I thought Mrs. Quick being in charge this year might mean some changes.” She snorts. “Too bad she and Valerie are too scared of the cheerleaders and Kraft to do anything but kiss the football team’s a—”

“Ahem.”

Connie’s expression freezes at the familiar sound of Kraft’s warning cough. Then she bares her teeth in a dangerous grin. Carolina knows she's going to cause trouble even before she says, “Vice Principal Kraft! Could I ask you a few questions about the recent decision to cut funding to—”

“No. And you are on thin ice, young lady,” Kraft warns.

Connie raises her eyebrows. “For asking questions?”

“For implying that the football team isn’t worthy of respect.”

Kraft’s voice grates on Carolina’s nerves. She should keep quiet. She’s already just missed getting detention from Donut, and Kraft is notoriously detention-happy. She still finds herself saying, “How is pointing out that other sports are underappreciated being disrespectful to the football team?”

From the corner of her eye, she sees Church mouthing at her to shut up. Niner and Connie both look delighted, and Wash looks both amused and worried about her inevitable detention. Still, pointing out the unfairness feels like the first right thing she’s done all day.

Then Kraft draws himself to his full height. He looks down his nose at her. “Let me guess. Your sport was ‘unfairly ignored’ after winning a couple times and your feelings were hurt. Well, missy, I’m sorry, but soccer or softball or whatever you play doesn’t get donations from alumni. Football does, so—”

Carolina’s throat goes tight with anger. “Missy,” she repeats flatly. She feels a pang as she thinks of her mom and her mom’s potential reaction to Kraft. She’d definitely make him cry. Carolina licks her lips. “I’m on the track team, but that’s not the—”

“But thank you for reminding me,” Kraft says. He gives her a nasty smirk beneath his mustache. “I did have an announcement about the football team!” He turns. His voice goes warm and cheerful. “Libby! Would you like to make the special announcement?”

The head cheerleader smiles. Her voice is equally sickeningly cloying as she coos, “Oh no, Vice Principal Kraft, you are such an amazing public speaker! Us girls can cheer you on, though, can’t we?” Next to her South looks sour but holds up a pom-pom.

“Attention, everyone!” Kraft yells. When he’s ignored, his yell turns to a bellow that rivals Sergeant Slater’s. “_ATTENTION!” _The room quiets, and he looks smugly satisfied. “As all of you are aware, Westbridge is playing against its rivals, Seaside High, this Friday. I expect you all to show proper school spirit and attend. I want to see signs and painted faces, people!”

“Haven’t we lost to Seaside four times in a row?” someone mutters loudly.

Carolina grins as Kraft snaps, “I heard that!”

Behind them, Libby clearly senses the lack of enthusiasm and starts up a cheer.

“Let’s get physical, get down, get rough, get mean. Say what now? Let’s get physical and roll right over that team. Go, Scallions!”

People can’t resist a cheer, or maybe just cheerleaders. By the time they’re done, most of the cafeteria crowd is clapping along. Kraft looks smug again. As Libby approaches, Kraft lowers his voice, staring meaningfully between Carolina and Connie. “And I expect both of you at the game, cheering your little hearts out.”

“I have shul,” Carolina says. She’s not really surprised at the blank look this earns her.

Connie shrugs. “I don’t want to.”

Kraft scowls. “Detention!”

Everyone stares in disbelief.

Carolina gets even angrier. “You can’t give her detention for that! Going to games isn’t mandatory.”

“Sounds like you want detention too,” Kraft says darkly, dangling a detention slip in front of Connie.

She snatches it from his grip, wearing that sharp grin from before. “Forget it, Carolina. I’ll take the detention.” Sotto voce as Kraft heads over towards Libby, she adds, “It’ll make an interesting story for the paper if Mrs. Quick doesn’t chicken out and lets me publish it…..”

“Are you going to frame the slip?”

Carolina can hear the grin in Niner’s voice, but she’s glaring after Kraft. She only looks away when Church elbows her and says dryly, “First Donut, now Kraft. Do you _want_ to get detention or something? Isn’t being grounded forever bad enough?”

“I don’t want detention,” Carolina says. She hears the defensive note in her voice too late. But she’s still embarrassed about that morning, coming in late and having only Donut’s laid-back attitude save her from detention. She’d just gotten lost in her own head, trying to figure out how to get Church and her dad to talk to each other. “But he’s not being—”

“What, fair?” Church snorts. “Nothing about being a teenager is fair.”

“Yeah,” Carolina says. “No kidding.”

* * *

When the last bell rings, Simmons fights the urge to bolt from the classroom with his students. Instead he grabs his satchel, double-checking that his experiment notebook and the photocopied spellbook are in there. Then he begins putting the ungraded tests inside as well.

There are more ungraded tests than he planned. Simmons frowns guiltily. He really owes the kids these papers. He’ll have to work on them while he eats dinner. Or wake up early tomorrow and finish them then. Or maybe just stay up later tonight, though he’ll probably be too tired—

“Are you rushing off _again_? You’re so busy lately!”

Simmons looks up. He represses a grimace. Donut’s smiling, but there’s a tinge of reproach in his voice. “Oh, uh. Hi, Donut. Hi, DuFresne. Yeah, I just, uh.” He tries to think of a new excuse and comes up blank.

DuFresne nudges Donut and says, “Be nice, Frank! Simmons doesn’t have to tell us what he’s up to.” Then he smiles at Simmons. “It does feel like we never get to see you, though! Let us know if you ever have some time for some wine and cheese.”

Simmons inwardly winces. He did enjoy Wine and Cheese Night more than he expected, as long as he doesn’t think about the disastrous follow-up of the speed-dating, but the idea of trying to figure out some free time is exhausting. He forces a smile. “Right, yeah. When I’m less busy….”

“Got a time frame on when that might be?” Donut asks, and then laughs when DuFresne nudges him again. “I was just kidding!”

“I’ll let you know,” Simmons says. Maybe he can figure something out for Thanksgiving break. Then again, Donut and DuFresne probably have family to visit…. He forces another smile. “But I’ve got papers to grade. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow!”

Simmons is almost out the door when DuFresne adds, a tinge of worry creeping into his voice, “Make sure to get some rest, you look—” He cuts off abruptly, like Donut nudged him instead.

Simmons pretends not to hear.

* * *

Carolina puts the last of her homework into her book bag. All she has left is practice, and then she can go back to the brownstone, do her homework, and call it an early night. Maybe tomorrow will be less frustrating.

“I really hope Connie frames that slip,” Wash says, leaning against the locker next to hers.

Across from them, Church snorts. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm pretty sure she has to give it to whatever teacher got stuck with after-school detention today.”

Carolina tenses as she hears Kraft’s voice rise over the crowd of kids rushing for the door.

“Quit running, you bunch of hooligans!”

“Hooligans,” Wash mutters under his breath. “What is this guy, from the 1940s?”

Kraft spies Carolina. He smirks. “Ah, Miss Track Team. Still too busy with tutoring to come to the game Friday night?”

“Tutoring?” Carolina says blankly. “I have shul—” As she says the word, she realizes that he’s mishearing it as school. She stares at him, debates the odds of him saying something offensive if she explains she’s going to temple, and settles on, “It’s not school. It’s, uh, a family thing.”

“Oh really?” Libby says, eyebrows raised as she appears next to Kraft. “A family thing? That’s funny, because _I _heard your parents dumped you on family friends and are too busy saving some poor kids in Africa to visit.”

Carolina feels the blood drain from her face.

“Ah,” Kraft says. He nods to himself. “A dysfunctional family. That explains a lot.”

Carolina opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

Libby smiles up at Kraft, looking pleased with herself. “Before I leave, Mr. Kraft, I wanted to talk to you about a new cheer I’ve been composing. I thought we could use something new on Friday.”

“I’m sure it’s wonderful, Libby,” Kraft says, smiling back. As they turn together to walk away, he adds a pointed, “Your school spirit should be an inspiration to everyone.”

Carolina still can’t speak. Libby’s words were like a slap. How dare she gossip about Carolina’s family like that! How dare Kraft act like that horrible comment explains everything about her! There’s a dull roar in her ears, muffling whatever Church is saying.

Wordless with rage, she points her finger at Libby and Kraft’s backs. There’s a blue flash.

Two lockers spring open at the same time, smacking Libby and Kraft in the back of the head. They both stumble, Kraft’s glasses flying off his face and landing somewhere in the crowd.

Libby stumbles against a boy holding a soda can. The can bursts, the soda soaking her and her cheerleading uniform. She shrieks in outrage. “My hair!” she wails.

“My glasses!” Kraft yelps. “Everyone stop where you are! Those are prescription! I can only replace them once a year!”

No one listens, other than a few kids who pause to laugh at the sight of Libby wringing soda from her uniform.

Carolina feels a moment of petty satisfaction.

Then Wash says, “Uh, you just— did I just see— Carolina, what did you just do?”

Carolina comes back to herself with a jolt. The satisfaction is banished by a sick feeling as she sees the shock in Wash’s face. How did she forget he was standing right next to her? She opens her mouth, but all that comes out is an awkward, “Um…”

“You,” Wash says, and stops. His eyes dart between her and Libby and Kraft. There’s a dawning realization in his face. “Your finger glowed—”

He cuts off with a yelp as Church bolts across the hallway and slaps his palm onto Wash’s forehead.

Wash stumbles back against the locker even as blue magic sparks against his skin.

“Church!” Carolina hisses.

Church glares at her. His face is white. “What? Are you seriously gonna yell at me right now? When I'm helping?”

“You can’t just--” Carolina cuts herself off. She peers into Wash’s face. His eyes are unfocused like her manager’s when Church did that mind-wipe. She waves her hand in front of his face, and he doesn’t blink. She frowns. Worry pinches her. “Can you overdo a mind-wipe? What if you erased all his memories?”

“I didn’t,” Church snaps. He stares at Wash. A hint of worry creeps into his voice. “He’s fine. Just give him a second.”

Carolina waves a hand across Wash’s face again.

This time he blinks. Awareness returns to his features. After another second he says, “Connie’s gonna be sad she missed Libby getting a soda to the face.”

* * *

There’s something prodding Simmons’ cheek and a frantic voice in his ears.

“Crap. Simmons, hey, buddy, wake up. Wake up. If you don’t wake up right now I’m siccing Locus on you. Simmons, dude—”

Simmons’ thoughts are fuzzy, but the alarm in Grif’s voice drags him into full consciousness. He opens his eyes. It takes a second for his vision to focus and for his thoughts to clear. The last thing he remembers he was trying to grade papers and eat. Now he's face-down on the table, his cheek digging into the edge of his plate, and Grif is staring at him, pupils swallowing up his mismatched irises.

Simmons starts to sit up, blinking through a wave of dizziness. “What happened?”

“What happened is you passed out,” Grif growls. His ears are flat against his head. He’s still crouched on the table, watching Simmons like he thinks Simmons is going to fall over.

A denial’s on the tip of Simmons’ tongue before he glances around again and notices the tests scattered on the floor. An embarrassed heat creeps into his face. “Uh.”

“Yeah,” Grif says sourly. His tail thrashes, threatening to tip over Simmons’ glass. “Are you surprised? You’ve been running around like an idiot, you haven’t been sleeping, and you keep doing all those stupid experiments and—”

“They’re not stupid!” Simmons says. It’s the wrong thing to say.

Grif’s eyes are still mostly pupil. They bore into Simmons. “They’re— ugh, whatever. You need to take a nap.”

Simmons frowns. His thoughts are still fuzzy. “What, like right now? But I agreed to meet Doctor Church—”

He stops, startled, as Grif actually hisses. “Seriously? You’re still gonna go tonight?”

Simmons flushes at the disbelief in Grif’s voice. “Just because I fell asleep—”

“You passed out.”

“I—”

“You passed out!” Grif says, even louder.

“I’m fine!” Simmons protests. There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach, though, as Grif’s tail continues to thrash and his expressive feline face radiates irritation. He knew Grif was weird about the experiments, but he didn’t know why. Now he thinks he knows. Grif doesn’t think he can handle the magic experiments. Even though Simmons has been doing them for weeks without any major magical backlash. Okay, there’s been _some_ backlash, but nothing Simmons can’t handle. He just needs to do some better time management and get a bit more rest. He can handle it.

He thought Grif understood how important this is to him, that a little exhaustion is worth it. But he doesn’t. He thinks Simmons can’t handle it, and that he’s failing, and maybe even that he should give up—

“I’m fine,” he says again.

“So you’re going tonight,” Grif says flatly. When Simmons nods, his fur bristles. He looks less about to argue and more about to reach out with a paw and smack Simmons in the head. “You—” He stops. Simmons sees his expression visibly change, like he’s given up on the argument. “Fine. Go collapse in front of Leonard. Maybe _he’ll_ make you take a nap….”

Before Simmons can say anything, Grif jumps off the table and stalks away, his tail still trashing.

Simmons’ stomach sinks lower. He wants to argue, but one look at the clock reminds him that Doctor Church is expecting him. He hastily puts his papers into a pile, shovels the remains of his dinner into his mouth, and then grabs his bag.

When he gets to the door, he hesitates. He glances towards Grif, trying not to be obvious about looking. He’s half-expecting Grif to be curled up taking an angry nap, but instead Grif is sitting upright, his tail twitching around his feet, staring off into space like he’s lost in thought.

“Uh,” Simmons says. “Talk to, uh, you later.”

Grif doesn’t respond.

* * *

Carolina knows as soon as she gets onto the track that it’s going to be a bad practice.

She overdid it that morning, lost in her thoughts. Even with some fast witch healing and a hasty shower, she’s still exhausted. Her knees and hips start protesting as soon as she starts to stretch.

It doesn’t help that she’s distracted.

Wash is fine. He’s been laughing about Libby taking a soda to the face ever since the hallway. Even now he’s telling one of their teammates about it, gesturing wildly and pretending to wring out his hair.

Carolina still feels guilty every time she looks at him. If she hadn’t lost her temper, Church wouldn’t have mind-wiped him. Church might say Wash will be fine, but she doesn’t trust witches to have actually done studies of mind-wiping magic on normal people and how it effects people's brains.

She sighs. Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah were less than a month ago, and she’s already screwing up.

“All right!” Sarge bellows. “Give me five laps!”

Carolina gets in one lap before Sarge starts hollering.

“Carolina! Didn’t I tell you last week not to push yourself?”

“I’m okay!” Carolina protests.

Sarge is on the other side of the track, but she still hears him snort. “Yeah, and the Fightin’ Scallions will beat Seaside Friday. Not that I don’t admire your enthusiasm and dedication, but you’re no good to the team if you screw up your knees. Slow down and walk! As for the rest of you, do Carolina proud! Run!”

Wash shoots her a sympathetic look and then breaks into a run.

The rest of the team vary in their sympathy. Carolina grimaces an apology in their direction as they all speed up from jogging to sprints. She moves to the farthest lane of the track, feeling like a slow car on the highway.

She feels another twinge of guilt as Wash races past her.

Carolina sighs and keeps walking. Tomorrow's a new day, she tells herself, and ignores how the thought just makes her even more frustrated.

* * *

“Oh, Carolina!”

Carolina halts in the doorway, her backpack half off her shoulders. She looks at Grey’s wide smile and immediately gets a bad feeling. Things rarely go well when Grey’s grinning like that. “Hi,” she says warily.

Grey tsks. “Your poker face isn’t improving. You really should work on that.” Then she laughs. “Not that it would matter. You’ve already been ratted out!”

The guilt and embarrassment curdle Carolina’s stomach. She has a second to think, _Church told her? _Just as quickly as she thinks it, though, she dismisses it. Church wouldn’t snitch. So how did she hear about--

“That dear Mr. Sarge was so worried he called me himself!”

Carolina blinks. “Sarge?”

Grey waves a finger. “He was _very_ concerned about you overexerting yourself during practice. Apparently you overdid it last week as well! At this rate he’s concerned you’re going to seriously injure yourself.”

Her smile fades, her eyes meeting Carolina’s. She looks genuinely concerned. “I know you’ve been busy with homework and spellwork and track, but you’ll fail at everything if you’re exhausted and overworked. Go upstairs. I spelled you a bath that will help with those aches and pains. We’ll take a break from spellwork for tonight, let you rest.”

“I—”

Grey giggles again. “Don’t worry. Vanessa will handle Donald if he drops in for a visit!”

“Oh,” Carolina says. She hadn’t even thought to worry about Doyle showing up, though she knows the Quizmaster will be visiting her and Church from time to time until they take their exam for their actual license. “How, uh, often is he going to be coming by?”

“Far, far more often than Vanessa would like,” Grey says.

“That doesn’t answer anything,” Carolina mumbles. “That just means a number more than zero.”

Grey giggles, but also doesn’t elaborate. Then she waves a hand. “Go!”

Carolina supposes a bath sounds nice. “Okay. Uh. Thanks.”

When she gets upstairs, Church pokes his head out of his room. “Hey,” he says. He smiles tentatively. He doesn’t say anything else, but he’s watching her like he’s worried she’s mad at him for mind-wiping Wash.

She is, definitely, but she’s mostly mad at herself. Plus, she’s tired. That bath sounds a million times better than arguing with Church about using magic on her friends. “Hey,” she says and keeps walking.

**Author's Note:**

> **Fun trivia fact:** Much like Salem in the original show, four trained cats played Grif when he didn't have to talk to anyone. However, the show couldn't find four identical cats, probably because of those distinctive markings. There's a lot of argument over what the _true_ markings are for the 'real' Grif, not helped by the fact that only one cat actually had the heterochromia and the others were just filmed with careful camera angles and wide shots to avoid focus on both eyes. They weren't wasting special effects money on cat eyes!


End file.
